The child, hanging from his father's hands, now saw again the bright star Sirius. It seemed to fly onwards, keeping pace beside them through the distant sky. As before, the child found its light a comfort. His good-luck coin clinked against his drum, and now he felt luckier than ever before. "Maybe we shan't always be helpless, Papa," he said. "Maybe we'll be self-winding someday."
"Maybe," said his father.
The Mouse and His Child by Russell Hoban is one of my favourite books, and every time I recommend it to someone I feel a teeny bit jealous, because they'll be reading it for the first time, and I can't ever experience that again. Anyone else feel like that about a book?
The Jute Mill Song, by June Tabor
Somebody Bring Me a Flower, I'm a Robot, by Kev Russell
Jackie's Train, by Mary Gauthier
